


Only Human

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 16:33:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12708738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: When Mycroft's nightmares get bad, Greg steals him away.





	Only Human

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Only Human 只是凡人](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13350027) by [xuxu9110](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xuxu9110/pseuds/xuxu9110)



Greg was used to Mycroft’s nightmares. He had his own from time to time, but Mycroft’s were far worse when they came. They never spoke of it in daylight, of Mycroft thrashing in his sleep, or waking in a cold sweat, or startling them both with a small cry from his lips. Greg would hold him, maybe run him a warm bath, and they would stay up until dawn, or until the last vestiges of nightmare had loosened their grip enough to allow Mycroft to sleep.

But they’d been worse of late, to the point where Greg could tell Mycroft dreaded closing his eyes. All Greg could do was encourage him to take the medications he’d been prescribed and hold him tightly, barely sleeping himself as he woke at the slightest sign.

So Greg quietly made arrangements with Anthea’s help and on a quiet Tuesday night he whisked Mycroft away from London, away from the shadows, and out to somewhere quiet, somewhere they could be alone.

“Where are we going?” grumbled Mycroft, looking out at the darkened countryside.

Greg squeezed his knee, eyes still on the road. “Just a little place I know. You’re off for the next four days, barring a major crisis.”

Mycroft sighed and lapsed into silence. Greg squeezed his knee again and put both hands on the wheel. Eventually, Mycroft drifted off to sleep. Greg turned the radio on low and checked the directions.

They pulled up to the farmhouse in the middle of the night. Mycroft woke as soon as the car stopped, looking wary for a moment before he remembered where he was and who he was with. Greg patted his arm and got out, pulling the housekey from his pocket.

“Would it do any good to ask where we are?” asked Mycroft, following him and glancing at his phone, seeing almost no signal.

“Nope. It doesn’t matter. It’s just us, a few sheep, and I think a cat or two.” He unlocked the door and indeed a cat wound itself around his ankles before leading them into the house.

Greg found the lightswitch and they both squinted in the sudden brightness of the hall. A low fire had been banked in the front room and Mycroft frowned. “Someone was here recently.”

“Yeah, but it’s ours for the next few days. Full run of the house and the land. If we need anything I’ve got their number, but they rent this out to folks looking for a getaway.” Greg yawned.

Mycroft gave him an affectionate smile. “You should sleep, you drove the whole way.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get the bags out of the car first.”

Mycroft put a hand on his arm. “You go on to bed, I’ll get the bags.”

Greg shrugged and trudged up the stairs, finding the large bedroom to the left and a smaller guestroom on the right. He used the loo, then went into the larger bedroom, stripping down to underclothes. He was sound asleep before Mycroft had even put down their bags.

**

Greg woke in the morning to Mycroft in his arms, a sleeping cat tucked between them and a second cat sitting on the end of the bed and staring at them. Greg smiled at it and stretched, waking the sleeping one. But Mycroft snored lightly, undisturbed by Greg’s movements.

Greg carefully extricated himself, kissed Mycroft’s cheek and took a look out the window at the rolling green hills. He stretched again and looked back at Mycroft, smiling fondly. The man with the weight of the world on his shoulders was sleeping on his side, hands tucked under his chin, looking ten years younger in a faded old t-shirt that Greg knew he’d never admit to sleeping in. The early light played across his hair and Greg couldn’t help the feeling of love that swelled in his heart.

Then one of the cats bumped his shin, clearly looking for breakfast. Greg leaned down to scratch behind it’s ears and quietly made his way downstairs.

Mycroft found his way to the kitchen as the scent of breakfast filled the small cottage. Greg smiled at him and accepted a kiss on the cheek. "You slept well," he said, turning his attention back to the pan.

"It's only the first night, we'll see how it goes from here," shrugged Mycroft, locating the tea and pouring himself a mug. "You were already snoring by the time that I got the bags upstairs."

"Well, as you said, I did drive all the way up here." Greg smiled and parceled out the food. The kitchen table was wooden and worn, clearly having seen many generations of use. It was cozy to sit here with Mycroft, the kind of thing Greg could see himself doing in retirement, years from now. He reached over and squeezed Mycroft's hand as they sat.

Mycroft nodded, understanding the meaning of the gesture and picking up his fork. The easy silence stretched between them, punctuated by the sound of utensils and the setting down of mugs. Finally, though, Mycroft finished his bowl, reached over and picked up Greg's empty one, and carried them to the sink. Greg topped off his tea and let him do the dishes, watching the way the water trickled down his hands. Mycroft also hummed quietly to himself, something Greg knew he only did when he was well and truly relaxed. Another habit he would never admit to having. Greg was always glad to know that he got to see Mycroft like this, got to see the stolen moments, hear an old song hummed, see the way the sunlight played across his face as the sun rose higher in the sky.

As Mycroft finished and wiped his hands, Greg got up and moved behind him, wrapping his arms around Mycroft's waist. "I love you," he said, kissing Mycroft's neck.

Mycroft smiled softly and angled his head to give Greg more room. "I love you too," he said quietly, as if here was a place safe enough to make such a confession.

Greg gave his hips a gentle squeeze. "Well, it's a lovely day outside, care to take a walk with me?"

Mycroft nodded. "I'd like that." He turned in Greg's arms and kissed him soundly, wrapping his arms around Greg's neck.

Greg pressed him back against the counter, deepening the kiss, holding Mycroft, feeling how strong and how fragile he was in his arms. Mycroft kissed him back just as enthusiastically. Greg finally pulled back, resting his forehead against Mycroft's. "This isn't walking."

"No, it isn't," Mycroft agreed, leaning in to kiss Greg's throat.

With a warm smile, Greg shifted and slotted his leg between Mycroft's, feeling him roll his hips at the contact. "I could take you upstairs to bed first," he mused, one hand slipping up Mycroft's back to tease at the nape of hair on the back of his neck.

"You could, yes," said Mycroft agreeably. "The hills have been here for a long time and they'll be here for a long time yet.”

“I’d hold you in my arms forever, if you’d let me,” murmured Greg, sliding a hand underneath Mycroft’s shirt to reach his skin.

“I know,” Mycroft murmured, shifting to sit on the edge of the counter.

With a sigh, Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft’s chest and hugged him tightly. “Come on, walk first.”

“Tease,” murmured Mycroft, scratching his fingers through Greg’s hair.

“I’ll even let you pick out an outfit for me while I make lunch.” Greg smiled up at him.

“Very well.” Mycroft let Greg help him stand back on the floor and gave his arse a squeeze, barely avoiding a retaliatory slap on the bottom as he headed back upstairs.

Whistling to himself, Greg fixed them sandwiches and put them in a basket, along with a bottle of wine, two glasses and a corkscrew.

Mycroft came back down in neatly pressed trousers and a soft sweater, holding Greg’s clothes in one arm. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Greg kissed his cheek and grabbed the clothes to go change.

Mycroft was waiting in the doorway as Greg reemerged, silhouetted by the morning light. He gave Greg a warm smile and reached for his hand, holding the basket in the other one.

“You just like the way my arse looks in these jeans,” said Greg, bumping against his shoulder.

“I am allowed to be shallow on occasion. And besides, a work of art should be appreciated.”

Greg rolled his eyes at him and led Mycroft towards a path that wound through the hills.

**

They didn’t speak much as they walked, nor was there any need to. They could simply breath in the fresh air and let their feet guide them, taking in the view.

Near lunchtime, they reached a small creek, shaded by some trees. Greg pulled out a small blanket from the basket and stretched it out for them. Mycroft smiled fondly and got settled, pouring the wine as Greg got the sandwiches.

“Thank you,” said Mycroft softly, regarding his wine.

“Can you talk about it?” asked Greg, putting a sandwich in his hand.

Mycroft shrugged. “Just some things. Reminding me of other things.” Mycroft looked up at Greg. “You help. Far more than you know. Even when I’m not sleeping.”

“I’m glad.” Greg leaned over and kissed him.

Mycroft leaned against his shoulder and they again lapsed into silence. A slight breeze ruffled their hair as they ate.

Finally, they brushed the crumbs away. Greg took Mycroft’s glass and set it aside, laying him down on the blanket. Mycroft smiled up at him, eyes telling Greg he knew everything he wanted to say.

“I love you,” Greg said anyway.

“I love you too.” Mycroft reached up and cupped his cheek, pulling him down for a kiss.

Greg moaned softly, kissing him with passion, smoothing his hand down Mycroft’s side. “May I make love to you, Mycroft Holmes?” he whispered as he pulled back to study his face.

“Please do.”

Greg pulled lube from his pocket and set it next to them, going back to kiss Mycroft, tasting the wine on his lips. Mycroft tugged at Greg’s shirt, pulling it over his head. Despite the chill of the day, the sun was warm on Greg’s back. He ran fingers through Mycroft’s hair. “When was the last time you did this outdoors?”

“Oh, probably not since university,” he admitted, tugging his own sweater off before cupping Greg’s cheek and kissing him. “I trust you.”

“Good. Nobody out here but the birds and the sheep and maybe a frog or two in that creek.”

Mycroft chuckled against his lips. “If you’re done cataloging the wildlife, perhaps you’d like to turn your attention elsewhere?”

Greg kissed his forehead, then started kissing down Mycroft’s throat, his chest, his stomach, running hands over muscles that had grown soft with age but no less delectable.

Gently, watching Mycroft’s face, he opened the man’s trousers. 

“Please,” said Mycroft softly, toeing off his shoes and helping Greg to bare him fully. Kneeling back, Greg stopped and just stared down at him, until Mycroft bit his lip and made a move to cover himself.

“Shh,” said Greg, catching his wrist. “You are so beautiful.” He leaned down to kiss a freckle on Mycroft’s hip. 

“You’ve seen me nude before,” murmured Mycroft, cock twitching at the attention.

“True, but you taste different in the sunlight. And I want to worship you.” Greg’s tongue dipped into the curve of his hip, then he went about kissing all the freckles he could find.

Mycroft _giggled_ under the attention, rolling onto his side as he pushed ineffectually at Greg’s shoulders. Greg rolled him the rest of the way over and parted his thighs, kissing down the curve of his arse while removing his own trousers.

“There aren’t any freckles there,” murmured Mycroft, drawing his knees up underneath himself.

“Perhaps not, but there is still the sweet taste of you.” Greg leaned in and dragged his tongue along him.

Mycroft moaned and twisted his hands in the blanket. Greg held his hips and devoured Mycroft, breathing in the scent of Mycroft mixed with the grass beneath them.

“Gregory,” Mycroft moaned, with a shuddering breath.

“Beautiful,” murmured Greg, pulling back and wiping his mouth before coating his fingers. He kissed slowly up Mycroft’s spine as he pushed two fingers into him. The vertebrate he could count with each breath, each touch of his lips, unlike the constellations of freckles splashed across pale skin.

Mycroft’s eyes were screwed tightly closed as Greg reached the nape of his neck. “Mycroft,” he murmured.

Slowly opening his eyes, Mycroft looked over his shoulder, smiling softly, blue eyes blown dark and his curl falling loose. Greg brushed his hair back and kissed his ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too… so much.” Mycroft looked as though he wanted to say more, but his words were stolen by the warmth of Greg’s eyes and the addition of another finger.

Greg watched Mycroft’s eyes slip closed again, resting his head on his hands. Greg kissed his shoulder and knelt back again to slick himself before carefully pushing in.

Mycroft moaned softly and adjusted his long legs. Greg grasped his hips and started thrusting slowly, moving deeper, watching the sunlight on Mycroft’s back and in his hair. It brought out the red in his hair all the more, like a fiery passion that was hidden behind closed doors and bespoke suits.

Bottoming out, Greg draped himself over Mycroft’s back, slipping a hand underneath him to grasp his cock.

“Yes… please…” groaned Mycroft, rocking back against him.

“Got you,” promised Greg, voice rough with desire. “Always, My.”

Mycroft smiled at the rare nickname, panting underneath Greg. Greg fucked him a little rougher, a little harder, loving the slip of Mycroft’s body underneath him, the heat of him, the taste of the sweat at the nape of his neck mixing with his shampoo.

“Close,” murmured Mycroft.

“Can I swallow you down? Can I taste you?” asked Greg.

Mycroft nodded.

Greg pulled out and flipped Mycroft onto his back, swallowing down his cock in one motion. 

Mycroft cried out and arched up, coming hard. Greg took all of it, holding his hips as he feasted.

Finally Mycroft sagged, shivering a bit with overstimulation. He cracked open one eye. “Did you…?”

Greg leaned over and kissed him. “Not yet.”

Mycroft pushed him over and went down on him in turn. Greg groaned, tugging at Mycroft’s hair, caught up in the moment and coming almost unexpectedly quickly. He laughed breathlessly as Mycroft pulled back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Christ.”

Smiling, Mycroft leaned down and kissed him, then made a face. “Right. I know where that mouth has been.”

Greg chuckled and tugged him to his feet. “Get dressed and we’ll go take a shower.”

“Seems a bit counter-intuitive,” muttered Mycroft, getting his trousers back on.

“Well, we wouldn’t want to scandalize the sheep,” said Greg, folding up the blanket before getting his own clothes back on.

“Heaven forfend,” said Mycroft, pulling his sweater back on and then his shoes before grabbing the basket.

Greg leaned over and kissed his cheek, still a bit out of breath, but not minding at all.

**

They were almost back to the cottage when the skies gathered close and sent down a sudden burst of rain. Greg cursed and Mycroft held the basket over his own head as they all but ran the rest of the distance.

Getting the door open, they stumbled inside, laughing and dripping all over the entryway as the cats ran for cover. “Of all the times to forget my umbrella,” muttered Mycroft, shivering.

Greg ran his fingers through Mycroft’s damp hair. “You go run a hot bath, I’ll see to the fireplace.” He took the basket from his unresisting fingers and carried it into the kitchen. After he got the kettle going, he stepped into the front room and got a low fire going. Finally he grabbed two cups of tea and made his way upstairs.

Mycroft was already nude. He smiled at him and took the tea while Greg finished stripping down and gave his teeth a quick brush.

“Good.” Mycroft leaned in to kiss him before leading him to the big clawfoot tub. 

“This is nice,” murmured Greg, getting in and accepting a teacup as Mycroft followed him and settled between his legs, leaning back against him.

“It truly is.” Mycroft sipped his tea. “Just a few more days of this, yes?”

“We can come back,” promised Greg, kissing his neck and finishing his own tea before setting the cup aside.

“Good.” Mycroft closed his eyes, letting the warmth seep into his bones. Greg took the cup from his fingers and wrapped his arms around him, holding him against his chest.

Mycroft sighed and snuggled in close to him. Greg kissed his temple. A few more days of this and with any luck, the nightmares would stay away, for a while at least. The rain splattered against the windows and Greg made a silent oath to do all that he could to keep the world at bay. After all, Mycroft was only human.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to lmirandas and HumsHappily for looking it over


End file.
